I'll Explain Later
by Allied Hero
Summary: As Troy sat in the cell plotting his escape with Perkins, he couldn't help but wonder why Dietrich was acting so strange. It was as though the honourable German soldier had been replaced by a monster. A series of missing scenes from the Do-Re-Mi Raid.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Pre-episode._

* * *

Hauptmann Dietrich sighed as the gruff voice filtered through the door, reluctantly complying with the order to enter the room.

Colonel Von Graff's office looked the same as it had a few months beforehand. The large room boasted lavish furniture, red velvet curtains, a designer rug and a large oak desk which sat by the far wall. A gold bust of Hitler sat on the corner of the desk, as if it were personally keeping an eye on the German war effort just outside the Afrika Campaign.

Dietrich finally focused his attention on Von Graff, who didn't look the slightest bit pleased to see him. The Colonel's reaction wasn't anything new, however. Anytime Dietrich was called to see his commanding officer in person, he knew it could only mean bad news. He disliked the Colonel every bit as much as Von Graff disliked him, however, he was forced to maintain some form of respect if he wanted to avoid an appointment with the Gestapo. His many campaign failures to date had him in enough hot water as it was.

Saluting, Dietrich proceeded to fold his hands behind his back. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Indeed I did," Von Graff replied flatly, returning the salute. "It has come to the Gestapo's attention and my own Captain, that your loyalties may be, how should I put it, shifting towards that of the Allies."

Dietrich forced himself to keep a straight face, though he was anything but calm on the inside. He fought a gentlemen's war, but was very much loyal to his country. "On what grounds is that accusation based on?"

"You are surprisingly calm, considering the circumstances," the Colonel replied, narrowing his eyes. "The information I have been given Captain, concerns your rather questionable relationship with a group of Allied desert scavengers known as the Rat Patrol. More specifically, with their leader uh, Sergeant Troy.

_Oh._

"This questionable relationship with the group includes multiple truces and countless altercations with them in which you were the only survivor. On top of this I've had to reassign you so many times I've lost count, and each time you have captured those damn men, they have not only managed to escape but have inflicted heavy losses at our side's expense!" Von Graff finished angrily. He tossed the piece of paper he'd referred to back on his desk. "Well Captain, how do you explain all this?"

Dietrich considered using Troy's sense of wit, but quickly decided against it. Von Graff was certainly in no mood for jokes. "If I may say sir, the Rat Patrol have escaped from _everyone_ who's ever captured them."

"Do not try to blame this on someone else, Captain," Von Graff spat. "Luckily for you, you were previously recommended by Rommel personally which has provided you with a second chance to prove where your loyalties lie."

"What must I do to convince you?" Dietrich replied calmly.

The Colonel glared at him for a moment more, then picked up a second piece of paper from his desk. He scanned over it quickly. "Intelligence has informed me of an area that the Rat Patrol have scouted multiple times in the past week. As it turns out, that particular area is simply begging for an ambush."

"And I suppose you want me to be a part of the ambush party?" Dietrich asked.

"No, not quite," Von Graff replied, a small smile appearing on his face. "Not only are you going to be a part of that ambush party Captain, but you are going to capture any Rat Patrol members you can get your hands on. You will take them to a special prison nearby where SS members will personally question them. You are to watch and learn from everything they do Captain, and you will participate in these activities. They say it does wonders for men who are becoming a little...soft towards the enemy."

By this point, the small smile had grown into a malicious grin. Dietrich shifted slightly, wishing he could be any place else but that office. "How long must I remain there before I can return to my regular unit?"

"Why the rush?" Von Graff replied, chuckling. "It would almost seem as though you do not want to do this!"

Dietrich maintained his straight face. "That's all very amusing sir, but I meant what I asked."

The Colonel stopped laughing, leaned into his desk and dropped his voice to a near whisper. "You will return to your unit Captain, when the SS and Gestapo are satisfied with your performance."

"...yes sir," Dietrich replied dejectedly. "Will that be all?"

"Yes, you may leave. Map coordinates and all other details will be delivered to you once you return to your base in North Africa," Von Graff replied. Dietrich saluted, heading towards the door before he was stopped by the Colonel's voice again. "Oh, and Captain? Do make sure you inflict some form of pain into the prisoners this time, the SS is so fussy about that sort of thing."

Dietrich restrained himself from glaring at the man before closing the door behind him.

Walking through the halls of the mansion, his mind was racing at a mile a minute. Since when did one's ability to hurt another human being determine your loyalty to a country? The whole affair was completely insane, he could never go along with it, his conscience would never allow it. But if he didn't...the Gestapo.

His thoughts turned to the Rat Patrol. Of all the sneaky things he had done in regards to them, none had included extreme methods such as this. Their entire relationship had been built on a mixture of both dislike for the opposing team as well as respect.

Oh, he could raise his voice, there was no doubt about that. Troy's wit in the face of danger was enough to make even the calmest of people angry. But he had never resorted to physical violence. It was odd, but there was the tiniest flicker of trust between himself and the American. He didn't even want to imagine the look on Troy's face when he'd have to hit him; how would he ever explain his actions? Would he ever get a chance to?

Dietrich pushed the thoughts from his mind as he reached his staff car. His driver, sensing his uneasiness, flashed him a concerned look. "Is everything alright, Herr Hauptmann?"

The Captain sighed as he hopped in the passenger side, looking towards the young Corporal with a sense of despair. "Manfred, you have been under my command for a long time, is that not so?"

"Ever since I was seventeen years old," he replied, grinning.

Dietrich couldn't help but smile at the boy's loyalty. "Well you know what I've taught you, then."

"Gentlemen's war, sir," Manfred replied, repeating Dietrich's motto. He frowned as his commanding officer's smile was once again replaced with a look of sadness. "Herr Hauptmann, what has that got to do with anything?"

"...Manfred, this conversation is not to leave this vehicle, is that understood?" Dietrich asked. When he received a worried nod, he continued. "The Gestapo believe my loyalties are shifting, so I'm being reassigned to an SS prison camp temporarily."

"But you're not a traitor!" Manfred exclaimed, his eyes widening. "They are not going to hurt you, are they?"

"They will if I don't do as they say," Dietrich replied solemnly. "Call it retraining if you will. It involves the capture of the Rat Patrol, and my participation in interrogation methods I would rather not think about."

"I'm sorry, Herr Hauptmann," Manfred replied sadly. "I know you would send them to a prisoner of war camp if you could."

Dietrich nodded slightly, twiddling his thumbs. "I want you to understand Manfred, that no matter what behaviour you may see me displaying within the next few days, I still want you to fight like the honourable soldier you are. Is that understood?"

Manfred smiled again. "You can count on me, sir."

"I know I can," Dietrich replied, returning the smile. "Come on, let's go."

As they drove out the gates of Colonel Von Graff's mansion, Dietrich could only pray he wouldn't have to return to the Island of Rhodes for a very long time.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Sorry for the delay, I'm currently on vacation so it's a little hard finding time to write. In response to a review, this is indeed a multi chapter fic and I'll try and update as often as I can. I'm sorry if I don't get back to reviewers, but I appreciate your thoughts immensely._

* * *

_If there's no Rat Patrol around to capture, I can avoid going through with this and avoid trouble at the same time._

That theory was the reason Dietrich found himself hidden along the rocky outline where a temporary allied field hospital was stationed. Manfred crouched down beside him, surveying the scene.

"Hauptmann, there!" he whispered suddenly, pointing towards a particular tent on the outskirts of the base. "One of the Privates just entered that tent."

Dietrich looked toward the young man. "Are you sure Manfred?"

"Yes, sir."

"Alright," Dietrich said, pausing for a moment to consider his next move.

It had taken him two days to track down the Rat Patrol. After returning from the Island of Rhodes, he was surprised to find out Colonel Von Graff had granted him 72 hours leave prior to the commencement of his mission. Regardless of the reason, he'd wasted no time in convincing Manfred to join him in his search of the Rats, granting the Corporal equal leave so the two could stop his mission before it began. He assessed the rocky outline once more.

"Now we obviously don't have an entire battalion to aid us this time," Dietrich said, referring to their last escapade involving an allied field hospital and a sandstorm. "Not to mention that if anyone ever finds out about this, we'll both be court-martialled..."

Manfred gulped. "What do you have in mind, Herr Hauptmann?"

"We can't create a diversion," Dietrich replied, casting an apologetic look at the Corporal. "The Rat Patrol would be the first to respond. The back of their tent is at the edge of the camp. No patrols, and no one but the Rat Patrol should be armed. Cover me, stay hidden, stay safe."

Manfred nodded. "Good luck sir."

* * *

"We'll be back in a few minutes, try not to destroy anything while we're gone," Moffitt said sarcastically, opening the flap to the tent.

"We ain't promising nothing," Tully replied, flashing a rare grin. Troy rolled his eyes as Hitch pulled an equally goofy look, exiting the tent before they pulled any further stunts. Moffitt smiled in amusement as he followed the older Sergeant's lead.

Hitch sat down on a makeshift bench a few moments later, stretching his arms as he did so. "Did Sarge say how long we're gonna be here? We've been cooped up in this joint for two days now."

"Better than getting shot at," Tully replied quietly. "I'll take a field hospital over fighting any day."

"And here I was thinking you were supposed to be the trigger happy one," Hitch said, raising an eyebrow. "Besides that, the Germans aren't gonna ambush thin air. We've been sitting ducks for them all week and not one has even _tried_ to capture us. Where's Dietrich when you need him?"

"Maybe he finally surrendered and now some other poor soul's gotta deal with him," Tully replied. He looked towards his friend, worry etched in his eyes. "Hitch, there's gotta be a better way to do this. This ain't some regular prison camp we're talking about. Them SS boys are a nasty bunch, and the Sarge is gonna be in it all alone."

"Orders are orders, I guess," Hitch replied, mirroring Tully's concern. "If he's already in there, then it's just a matter of breaking out. Besides, he needs time to explain the situation to Roberts."

"Still," Tully muttered.

The two men sat there for a moment, contemplating the situation at hand. For a whole week they had been trying to come up with a better plan than Troy's, which was essentially a solo suicide mission. However, it dawned on them soon after they'd started their plotting that they weren't exactly ideas men. The two day stop over at the nearest field hospital had been a lucky break; running low on supplies had granted them some extra time to think.

A rustling noise at the opposite end of the tent caught Hitch and Tully by surprise. Before they even had a chance to turn around, the culprit spoke up. "Don't make a sound."

Hitch glanced towards Tully with a look of utter disbelief, before they slowly turned to come face to face with Hauptmann Dietrich. Tully decided not to heed the Captain's warning, glancing towards Hitch again. "Anyone ever tell you to be careful what you wish for?" he mumbled.

Dietrich shifted impatiently. "I'm not going to fool around here gentlemen, I merely need some information."

"What a shame, we don't seem to have any in stock," Hitch shot back.

"Private, this is urgent," Dietrich replied, his voice wavering slightly. "Where's Sergeant Troy?"

"I don't know who you're talking about."

"_Private_."

Hitch pulled out a new bubblegum, unfolding the wrapping slowly. "Sorry Captain, can't help you. And if you've got any sense, you'll get out of here before we yell. You can't shoot us both at once you know, and it'll only take us a second to grab our weapons."

Dietrich's shoulders tensed slightly before he spoke up again. "Alright, since you won't tell me where the Sergeant is, then you'll just have to convey this message yourself. That valley area you've been scouting this past week? You cannot go back there."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hitch said between chews.

Dietrich's retort was cut off by the sound of two all-too-familiar voices gradually moving closer towards the tent entrance.

_"We've got what we need, time to get outta here."_

_"Really, Troy. You're rather eager considering the circumstances."_

The high class British and casual American accents were all the warning Dietrich needed. Troy he could handle, but Moffitt was a completely different story. The four Rats in the same room in the middle of an allied base would only mean becoming a prisoner was inevitable. Dietrich slowly began moving towards the back of the tent again, dropping his voice to a near whisper. "Pretend all you wish, but you are all in danger of being captured by the SS. Take my word or leave it, Private."

The voices had almost reached the tent entrance by that point. One last look at the two men, and Dietrich slipped away.

Hitch and Tully glanced at each other momentarily, wondering whether or not to go after the German. The fact that Dietrich had been able to slip in and out of the vicinity unnoticed annoyed them to no end, though they didn't want a firefight breaking out in a place where unarmed doctors and nurses could get killed. Their thoughts were interrupted once again however, by the return of Troy and Moffitt.

"Great news fellas. We've got food and water to last us about three or four days, so we can pack up and get outta here," Troy announced, grinning. When he noticed the stunned looks on both Hitch and Tully's faces, the smile disappeared. "What's the matter with you guys?"

"You're not gonna believe it, Sarge..." Tully began.

Troy raised a hand to his temple and sighed. "What did you two goofs get up to this time?"

"It's not what _we_ did Sarge, it's what _he_ did," Hitch said.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Troy demanded.

Hitch took the time to create an exceptionally large bubblegum bubble, much to Troy's annoyance. "Well you see Sarge, we had a visit from the guy in the big, green goggles."

Troy's eyes widened instantly. "_Dietrich_ was here?"

"Which way did he go?" Moffitt asked hurriedly, pulling out his revolver. "He can't have gone far, I could catch up with-"

"Hold it! No one's shooting anyone," Troy interjected. He ignored the raised eyebrow Moffitt directed at him and turned his attention towards Hitch. "What did he want?"

"To talk to you, Sarge," he replied. When Troy shot him a quizzical look, Hitch relayed the gist of Dietrich's message. "What do you think his angle is?"

Troy rested his hands on his hips, eyeing Hitch and Tully. "Our beloved German Captain waltzes in here the minute Moffitt and I just so _happen_ to leave the tent and tells you guys that we're in danger of being _captured?_ Not to grab another doctor or just be his usual sneaky self in general?"

"Well he _did_ sneak in here, Sarge," Hitch offered.

"Sorry fellas, I'm not buying it," Troy declared.

Hitch's eyes widened. "But Sarge-"

"No buts," Troy cut in. "You two have been trying to convince me not to go through with this from day one. Not to mention that I don't think his superiors would be too happy to find out he was warning the enemy. This is SS business, not Wehrmacht."

"Sarge, Dietrich really was here," Tully added quickly.

Troy stared intently at the two men, as if doing so would force the truth out of them. Finally, he turned towards the tent entrance and opened the flap once more. "We go ahead as scheduled. C'mon, let's shake it."

The two men were left in stunned silence as Moffitt followed.

Outside, Troy headed towards his Jeep. When he was sure Moffitt was preoccupied preparing the 50 calibre machine gun on his own vehicle, Troy scanned the horizon. He wondered not if, but where the German was hiding. He would be watching, there was no doubt about that. What he wanted to know was why he was warning them to begin with. You don't create attachments with the enemy. You _can't_. They both knew that one day, they may have to pull that trigger. _And until then I'll just keep aiming at the ground._

"I thought you said you didn't believe them."

Moffitt's voice sliced through Troy's thoughts like a knife through butter. He looked towards the Englishman, who had a smug look plastered on his face.

"I don't."

"Face it Troy," Moffitt replied. "Ever since you two got chained together last year, you've been a part of the most dysfunctional relationship with an enemy in the entire desert."

Troy didn't bother asking how Moffitt knew about the chain incident. He diverted his eyes back towards their tent. "Hitch, Tully! I said let's shake it!"

The two Privates reluctantly slipped out of the tent, much to Troy's relief. He glanced back at Moffitt as he slipped into his seat next to Hitch. "Let's get outta here."

* * *

Dietrich stared through his binoculars in dismay, as the Rat Patrol headed deeper into the desert.

"That idiot Private," he muttered. "Probably ignored every word I said."

Manfred glanced at Dietrich, shooting him an apologetic look this time. "I'm sorry, Herr Hauptmann. I saw the Sergeant leave moments before you entered their tent, but you were too far away to warn."

"It's not your fault, Manfred," Dietrich replied. He removed the binoculars and stared intently at the horizon. "I should have waited for the Sergeant to return, regardless of whether the Englishman was with him or not."

"You were trying to warn him sir, not get captured."

Dietrich looked over at the young man, who was leaning on folded arms. "You know something Manfred? With Sergeant Troy there, somehow I don't think that would have been a problem."


	3. Chapter 3

_You must stay conscious. No, don't give me that look. I tried to warn you._

"...Herr Hauptmann?"

"Hmm?"

"The prisoner, sir. What are your orders?" Private Bruner asked, looking at Dietrich expectantly.

_Sergeant Troy. SS._

Dietrich refocused his attention towards the situation at hand. Troy was lying motionless on the ground, the momentary blinking and the sight of his chest rising and falling the only reassurance that he was still alive. After being thrown from his Jeep, the American was in a dazed state, drifting in and out of consciousness as a result of the intense desert heat.

The Captain scanned through his men until he found who he was looking for. "Corporal, help me lift the Sergeant into the staff car. The rest of you return to your vehicles and prepare to follow us."

Manfred stepped forward as the rest of the men dispersed. When they appeared to be out of hearing range, he lowered his voice. "What are you planning, Herr Hauptmann?"

"Precisely what I said," Dietrich replied, gripping Troy's arms. "Carry his legs, would you?"

"You are not going to do anything, sir?" Manfred asked in surprise.

Dietrich sighed, his temper beginning to grow short. "Manfred, we have risked our lives for the last _three day_s in an attempt to stop this from occurring. _Now pick up his legs_."

The young man scrambled to carry out the order, knowing any further increase in Dietrich's temper was not a welcome prospect. After a count of three they hoisted Troy's body up, and a few minutes later, he was left slumped in the front passenger seat of the staff car as Manfred took his position at the wheel. Dietrich sat himself atop the edge of the back seat, pulling his Luger out of his sidearm in the process.

Manfred glanced over at Troy, then back towards the Captain. "Sir, about the Sergeant-"

"What about him?" Dietrich cut in sharply.

Manfred wondered whether or not continuing was a good idea, but did so anyway. "Would it not be wise to try and help the Sergeant regain consciousness? After all, the SS do not take too kindly to unresponsive prisoners."

"In case I need remind you _Corporal_," Dietrich replied sternly. "He is an extremely dangerous enemy and is to be treated as such."

"Since when do you ever call me Corp..." Manfred trailed off, his unfinished question being met by the most piercing glare he'd ever seen. He looked up warily. "...Herr Hauptmann? Are you alright?"

Silence.

_Perhaps he's in one of his moods,_ Manfred thought.

That's when he remembered Dietrich's words from a few days beforehand.

_I want you to understand Manfred, that no matter what behaviour you may see me displaying within the next few days, I still want you to fight like the honourable soldier you are. Is that understood?_

It was then the young man realised the true extent of what the Captain had meant. Gone was the honourable German, and in his place was a version of the kind of soldier he'd always loathed. An emotional barrier, Manfred mused. Instead of simply acting out against the enemy, Dietrich had chosen to distance himself from all those who were truly close to him.

Without another word, he turned around and started the engine. As the staff car pulled away from the rest of the column, Manfred silently wished for the entire mission to be over with as soon as possible.

He just wanted his Captain back.

* * *

_When this is all over with, I swear Moffitt's gotta teach me German._

Troy blinked his eyes open, trying to get a bearing on his surroundings. A quick scan of the horizon told him the prison camp was still nowhere in sight, though that piece of information wasn't making him feel any better. Aside from the fact that his head felt like it was about to explode, he hadn't understood a single word of the conversation he'd managed to pick up between Dietrich and a fellow soldier.

_First he tries to warn me, now he's trying to kill me. Situation normal._

The staged capture hadn't exactly gone to plan. The barrage of enemy fire they'd driven into was almost too close for comfort, and as a result, Hitch had tipped the Jeep as he tried to avoid getting hit. The force of the fall had knocked Troy out cold, only coming around momentarily to the sight of Dietrich standing over him. Unfortunately, he'd been too dazed at the time to wipe the smug smile off the Captain's face.

Troy glanced towards the driver. A young man, likely not even twenty years old yet, he guessed. He appeared to look extremely on edge, gripping the steering wheel as if he would lose all control if he dared let go. Just another kid fighting in a man's war.

Troy's thoughts were interrupted as a round object was dug into his back. He darted his eyes towards the review mirror, his questioning glance being met by the likes of Dietrich's. He slowly turned his head to face the Captain, narrowing his eyes.

_Would you get that piece of metal outta my back? I'm not exactly going anywhere._

The Captain seemed to hesitate for a moment, before removing the weapon.

_Thank you._

* * *

Dietrich stared at his Luger for a moment, before placing it back in his holster. He could put on a show of pushing and shoving the American later, he thought. For now, all he wanted was to enjoy his last taste of freedom. Well, about as much as he could enjoy it alongside a confused Corporal and an angry Sergeant.

He could have sworn the American was trying to communicate with him. It was something he'd begun to notice after multiple run-ins with Troy, those split second looks of courage mixed with fear and uncertainty that he'd flash in the face of danger.

Dietrich's thoughts moved on to his last conversation with Manfred. This was the boy who had looked up to him for more than a year, who had treated him as though he were a second father. But the look he'd given Dietrich not half an hour earlier had crushed any sense of self worth he'd managed to retain. Manfred had looked so _lost._

The Captain wondered if his tactics were all wrong. He had hoped that by separating himself emotionally from all those around him, he would be able to perform the terrible actions required to complete his mission successfully.

But that's when he realised he'd never felt so alone.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: I ended up taking this chapter down after a few days due to the fact that I simply wasn't happy with it. It was the ending more or less. I found it both jarring and out of character, but I just couldn't seem to find the right words. I hope I've managed to get it right this time._

* * *

As the door closed in front of him, Dietrich closed his eyes and silently took a deep breath.

_That man is honestly going to be the end of me._

After an unsuccessful attempt at extracting even an ounce of information from Troy, Dietrich had begun to grow almost as frustrated as he was acting. It seemed as though no matter what he tried to do to help the American, he refused to give an inch. On top of that, he wasn't sure what scared him more; the fact that he wanted to help Troy, or the fact that he couldn't.

A rustling of papers caught Dietrich's attention. He turned to face the camp Kommandant Colonel Strauss, a short man of stocky build who appeared to be the all brawn and no brain type. It was moments such as those when Dietrich wondered how on earth certain men got to be officers.

The Colonel looked up from his desk, eyeing Dietrich for a moment. "Captain, is that what you honestly call an interrogation?"

"I do, sir," Dietrich replied, sounding a lot more confident than he felt.

"We will soon change that, I assure you," Strauss said sternly. He rose from his chair and walked around to the front of the desk, leaning against the frame. "If only you had arrived a day earlier, Captain. Then you would have witnessed how a _real_ interrogation works."

"What a shame," Dietrich replied, a hint of anger in his voice. He didn't need the Colonel to elaborate on what he meant by 'real'.

Strauss cleared his throat before continuing. "You also missed the results of the interrogation, I might add. Mickey Roberts may boast other talents, however, a strong man he is not.

_Roberts...where have I heard that name before?_

"Yes, Mickey Roberts the American singer," the Colonel snapped impatiently, having noticed Dietrich's facial expression. "Hardly lasted ten minutes before telling us all we needed to know. And _that_ Captain, is exactly what we are going to teach you to do. Get results."

Dietrich was suddenly overwhelmed with a feeling of dread, similar to the one he'd experienced as he was standing in Colonel Von Graff's office a week beforehand. Only this time, he was was right in the middle of his nightmare.

He rose to his full height and folded his hands behind his back. "Very well. Will that be all?"

"Not so fast," Strauss replied, shooting Dietrich an annoyed look. "The information provided by Roberts concerns another prisoner here, a Corporal Perkins. The SS will be arriving to take care of him within a few hours. Until then, I plan to make use of Roberts' presence to entertain them. I hear they are admirers of his work."

"And you want me to...?" Dietrich trailed off, realising where the conversation was going.

_If you think I would willingly torture this Corporal Perkins, you are sadly mistaken._

"I need you to inform Roberts of our need for his services," the Colonel replied, interrupting Dietrich's thoughts once again.

The Captain's eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me?"

"Of course, we must observe some form of the Geneva Convention," Strauss continued. "Ensure you remind him that there are certain rewards for cooperating, as he now knows."

Dietrich struggled to suppress a sigh of relief as he recomposed himself. "Of course, sir. Will there be anything else?"

"No, you may go," Strauss replied with a wave of his hand. "I'm assigning Corporal Vater to you as your aid while you are here. He will direct you to your temporary office."

Dietrich glanced back at Vater, the young man who had taken Troy to his cell. The Corporal smiled slightly, to which Dietrich nodded in response. Something about that look, he noted. It reminded him of another certain young man.

He turned back towards Strauss who had since returned to his seat, giving him an almost careless salute before turning on his heel and heading towards the door.

* * *

Troy sat on the bottom half of a bunk in the corner of the cell, silently trying to make sense of the previous twenty-four hours.

_First he tries to warn me, then he tries to kill me. And when he doesn't do that, he drops me off with the krauts he didn't want me going near in the first place. At least the mission's on track but Hitch was right; what the hell is Dietrich's angle, anyway?_

Troy pushed his thoughts aside and focused towards the task at hand. He'd spotted Roberts outside the prison cells as he was ushered into the Kommandant's office, but hadn't seen him since. After figuring Roberts would show up eventually, Troy decided to start planning their escape. Grabbing a blanket from the bed he was sitting on, he began to rip the material into thin strips which would be useful as strangulation devices later.

That's when he heard footsteps approaching the cell.

* * *

"Is there anything I can do for you, Herr Hauptmann?" Vater asked from his position at the office doorway.

Dietrich looked up from his desk towards the Corporal, only slightly annoyed that his thoughts were being interrupted for the umpteenth time that day. "No thank you Vater, I will call if I need you."

As the younger soldier returned to pacing back and forth in front of the office door, Dietrich studied him. Vater appeared to be extremely young, perhaps even younger than some of the men under his own command. He took note of the worried look that seemed to be permanently etched into his face, and Dietrich could only wonder what had the other man so riled up.

"If I may ask, why are you stationed here of all places?"

Dietrich's question stopped Vater mid-pace. He appeared to contemplate his words for a moment, before speaking up. "Wounded in action, sir. My right leg is currently out of commission in regards to all combat roles. Whether or not that is the case temporarily or not, I don't know."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Dietrich replied grimly. He eyed the Corporal for a moment more, a sense of déjà vu washing over him. "You remind me of someone, you know. He's about your age, a Corporal too."

Vater raised an eyebrow, having visibly relaxed. "That's quite amusing, sir. You are close with this other Corporal?"

"Quite," the Captain replied smiling, doing his best to ignore the uneasy feeling that had been nagging him since earlier that morning. Looking around the room, his gaze fell on a clock perched by the door next to Vater. Realising how much time had passed since speaking with the Kommandant, Dietrich stifled a gasp. "Actually Vater, there _is_ something you can do for me."

The Corporal turned at the mention of his name. "Yes, sir?"

"I'm required to speak with the prisoner, Roberts," Dietrich said, glancing at a vinyl on his desk. "Could you please bring him to me?"

"Of course, Herr Hauptmann," Vater replied, snapping a quick salute.

Once the young man left the room, Dietrich turned his attention towards the vinyl again. Pulling it towards him from the corner of the desk, he studied its cardboard cover for a moment.

'_That Tiny World' as sung by the legendary Mickey Roberts. I see even the rich and famous cannot escape the war's grasp._

Sliding the vinyl from the cover, he turned towards the phonograph placed neatly on a filing cabinet behind him. What such a machine was doing in a prison camp in the middle of the desert, Dietrich didn't know. He assumed however, it couldn't have been that difficult to retrieve it considering the sort of men who were running the place.

Once everything had been put in place, Dietrich turned in readiness for Vater's return with Roberts. His eyebrows furrowed however, as a thought occurred to him. In short, the Corporal's case just seemed downright odd. Yes he was injured, but why station him somewhere when it would only make sense to let him continue to rest? What purpose did patrolling serve other than to delay his leg from healing? Surely his commanding officer could see that.

Dietrich leaned against the cabinet, arms crossed. He hadn't spoken with Vater enough to find out much of anything, but anyone could see he wasn't enjoying his stay at Camp Strauss. Regardless, he did his job and did it well.

_I believe a transfer is in order. That's if I ever get out of this miserable place._

Dietrich's head snapped up as the sound of footsteps gradually began to grow more prominent. Turning towards the phonograph, he proceeded to put the needle in place, smiling as the first few notes of That Tiny World filled his ears. Indeed, it was a nice uplifting change within surroundings that were borderline dull. With a sigh, Dietrich once again took a seat at his desk.

He had a job to do.


End file.
